#hope i did this one justice

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 7/34 - pocket bow tie

[Read on AO3]

She looks excited. At least, he thinks she does.

The good news is, she doesn't look like she's about to bolt out the door, and he calls that a win.

They may not be committing themselves to each other in the way a marriage is typically supposed to go, but this is a big commitment all the same. If she changes her mind now, their plans for adoption are as good as gone. The idea of family, as foreign as it has been for the last 26 years of his life.

He’ll admit he’s gotten rather attached to the idea. Perhaps a little too much so, considering how unique their situation is, and how often they've been dealt blow after blow of disappointment.

He looks down at the woman to his left. Any worries he might have had melt away at the sight of her. She's calm, her lips quirked up in a quiet, content smile as they wait to be called into the courtroom. Her shoulder brushes against his arm, and he resists the temptation to touch her, to hold her hand in his, knowing he will have his chance later.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he says, having held on to that one all morning. She smiles up at him, looking every bit the blushing bride she is, despite the absence of the big white dress and veil.

"I think Bill was intimidated by how nicely you were dressed," she teases back.

He looks down at his fine-cut suit. "What, this old thing?"

Scully has never been the kind to care how expensive one's clothes were, but even she has to admit that he looks good in Armani. And judging by his smirk, he knows it too.

"Did you have that bow tie stuffed in your pocket all morning, Mulder?" she asks, reaching up to straighten it.

"Had to look nice for our special day," he answers cheesily. "Plus, you told me to ditch the colorful ties. Figured I'd get a head start on the whole 'happy wife, happy life' thing."

Wife. Husband. Those words sound so foreign, and yet, in just a few moments time, they will apply to them.

'Excuse me, table for me and my wife, please.'

'Yes, I'm her husband. That's me.'

The insanity of it all makes him want to laugh.

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?" a clerk asks, popping her head out of the courtroom door.

He feels Scully's hand grasp for his, and a thrill runs up his spine. "That's us," she says, stepping forward. He gives her hand a squeeze, following after her like a lost puppy.

Here we go.

Once they’re inside, the judge gestures for them to approach the bench, and they stand side-by-side in the center of the chamber. The dark oak wood is daunting, bringing back memories of not particularly enjoyable times they’ve been in courtrooms.

This time is different, though. The judge is smiling, for one, looking down her thin, half-moon spectacles at them. And, for once, their time in court will serve to unite them, rather than split them apart.

Yes, this would be a very nice change, indeed.

“What a beautiful couple you make,” the older woman speaks, her eyes crinkling in joy. Scully smiles, and Mulder clings a little tighter to her hand. “Are we ready to get started?”

They nod, and Mulder has to focus to keep his knees steady under him. They’re really doing this. He can hardly believe it has come to this point.

“We are gathered here to join Fox and Dana in the blessed union of marriage,” the judge starts, reciting her opening statement to the mostly empty room. One clerk stands by as their witness, a camera in hand to capture their memories of the day, probably with the intent to sell them back to them at an exorbitant price. 

It doesn’t matter. Mulder will pay it anyway, whatever the cost.

“This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly,” she continues. “A marriage ought to be founded on mutual respect, affection, and a desire to see through any challenges that may come your way. If you speak your vows in truth, this union will strengthen your bond, serving as a constant reminder of your unwavering love for one another.”

Mulder swallows, holding fast to the comfortable weight of Scully’s hand in his. The judge’s words only reinforce his belief that this is the right decision, that this is meant to be. Mutual respect, affection, going through life’s challenges… how else would he describe what he and Scully have? What they’ve had for over half a decade?

Unwavering love . He’s got that in spades. He feels it from her too, that fierce loyalty. “Love…” Well, he’d like to think so. At least some form of it.

“Fox,” the judge speaks, calling him to attention. He fumbles for Scully’s other hand, the way he remembers seeing at a friend’s wedding once in Oxford. “Will you take Dana to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Easiest yes in the entire world.

Green eyes meet blue.

“I will,” he says.

“And Dana,” he feels his throat close, choking back a sudden rise of emotion. “Will you take Fox to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

It’s the ‘forsaking all others’ part he feels like Scully shouldn’t be agreeing to, but they’ve talked this over. He still can’t quite believe she picked him. Him! Out of any man she could have.

“I will,” she answers, squeezing his hands once. He nods, and feels—not for the first time—that she’d known exactly what was going through his head. They certainly are spooky like that, sometimes.

“Excellent,” the judge praises. “Now, do you have your own vows, or—”

“The standard is fine,” Scully says, smiling up at Mulder.

“Standard it is,” she says. “Fox, repeat after me. I, Fox, take you Dana.”

“I, Fox, take you, Dana.” He leans in close and adds, for her ears only, “Scully,” with a conspiratorial smile, whispering the name he gave her that first day they met. It’s the only one that feels right coming from his lips, and he needs her to know that this isn’t just for show. This isn’t ‘Fox’ making promises to ‘Dana.’ This is them—Mulder and Scully. It’s real. As real as anything she can prove with her beloved science. 

The judge, oblivious to his unprompted addition, continues. “To be my wife,” she says.

“To be my wife.”

His. He would have a wife, and it would be Scully. His Scully. He runs his thumb over her knuckles in circular strokes, swallowing back emotion. She shudders under the intensity of his gaze.

“To have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

It feels good to speak these promises aloud. For so long, he’s taken and taken and taken from her, watched her life and her dreams be stolen from her grasp, powerless to stop it. Now he can finally give, starting here and now, with his solemn vow to be there for her in every way the judge described. He hopes she can see the truth in his eyes. How much he means these words, from the bottom of his heart.

Judging by the way her eyes glisten, he’s coming across loud and clear.

Then, it’s her turn, and she looks up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “I, Dana,” she says, smiling coyly in preparation for what they both know comes next. “Take you, Fox.” His name is spoken with a teasing lilt, and it sounds just as unnatural as it always does coming from her mouth. He breathes a laugh, jostling her hands playfully between them. “Mulder,” she whispers, just as he had, and his heart melts. “To be my husband.”

The rest of her vows follow, equal to his, just as they are equal in all things. The weight of what they are promising lands squarely on their shoulders, at once harrowing and freeing. Mulder can hardly believe the ceremony is almost over.

“Now, do you have rings to exchange?”

Scully goes to answer that, no, they don’t, but movement from Mulder stalls her. He fishes something from his pocket, facing her with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he says, dropping a plain silver band in the palm of her hand. She sees his fist clenched around what must be her ring, and tilts her head in fond exasperation, a silent whine of ‘Mulder…’ that he looks forward to hearing every time they exchange gifts. 

The judge waxes poetic (as poetic as city hall can get) about the meaning of rings, their significance in a marriage, symbolism—but Mulder and Scully are barely listening. All they hear is her instruction to place the band on each other’s left ring finger, which they happily do, taking their time to slide it into place. The weight feels heavy, but right, on Mulder’s hand, and Scully’s… Scully’s sparkles just like he’d imagined it would when he picked it out at the jewelry shop.

They won’t be able to wear them in public most of the time—he’d known that from the start—but for now, in this room where everyone is privy to the legal bonds being established between them, they are free to do whatever they wish. 

“Well then,” the judge speaks up, beaming from ear to ear. “Having consented to enter into this union and pledged your vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State of Maryland and the circuit courts of Anne Arundel County, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She reaches up and takes off her glasses, setting them down in front of her. “Mr. Mulder, you may kiss your bride.”

Blood rushes to his ears, and for a second all he can hear is the pounding of his heart.

Somehow, in all the weeks they’ve been planning this, he’d never considered this particular part of the ceremony. A startling oversight, considering how thorough he’d been with everything else.

Scully is looking up at him, the only sign of her own internal turmoil being the way she bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He wants to kiss her, oh, does he want to kiss her. But this is where the line between real and fake goes gray. 

‘Is this okay?’ he asks with his eyes, his hands suddenly sweating a fair bit more than they had been before. He gets an almost imperceptible nod in return, and makes up his mind.

It’s chaste, the way his lips first meet hers. His hands land on that place on her back that she thinks of as belonging to him, and he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She turns and catches him with her lips, her hand coming up to lay flat against his chest. It barely lasts more than a few seconds, but it leaves him feeling dizzy nonetheless, breathless. He smiles a lopsided grin.

Of all the ways he imagined their first kiss going, in front of two complete strangers at their wedding was not one of them. 

The air feels awkward when they pull back, not quite able to meet each other’s eyes, but the silence is quickly filled with congratulatory remarks from both the judge and their witness. In an act of boldness, he captures her hand again as they are ushered out of the room, holding tightly to it. As he predicted, their witness-slash-photographer takes Mulder’s money, promising that the prints from their ceremony will be delivered to his address in a month’s time, and he thanks her.

Step one is complete. They have officially started the process that would have them labeled the craziest agents in the FBI.

For once, he doesn’t really mind being the crazy one.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

[isjasz]

🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌖

(happy eclipse day yesterday🎆🎆🎆)

[naariel]

Halsin, my heart 💚

[shima-draws]

Can y'all believe I'm almost 300 episodes in and I STILL haven't drawn him. HAD to fix that.

Anyway here's a whole bunch of mini studies/redraws, basically me getting the feel on how to draw The Boy Ever in my style

[crunchchute]

my attempt at a bunch of my fav artists styles :] idea by sootnuki!!

i would love to do more but this was already a huge challenge

if any artist here dislikes this/is uncomfortable with it/any reason i can take it down or turn off reblogs etc. otherwise i hope its ok 🫡 im not gonna tag anyone just gonna let it do its thing in the wild lol

[bocchidaily]

what if Bocchi™ was a Slugcat from "Rain World".

Day 6: The Rock

[delizbin]

Katniss Everdeen

[serafisolaris]

finally I can rest✨

[simikae]

how to be a dog

happy umineko day(s). here’s to the actor hiding behind the wings

[spdrvyn]

i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

[2aceofspades]

just been thinking about that trailer for Dark Phoenix where Scott asks Charles, “Tell me what to do, Charles, just tell me what to do!” And Charles just reacts, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” And now I can’t help but picture an argument similar to this between Leo and Raph during a really tense, dire mission lol

Oh?

Hm.

...

...

(:

[emry-stars-art]

I’m always on my renison shit 😭😭 but number three from the mistletoe game would be so cute with Allison romancing Renee!!!

(Also requested by @codywan-slut 😘)

Requests are open until the end of Dec ‘23 💕

[heymrspatel]

'"What the fuck is this."

Ian pulls out half a dozen cupcakes, all different flavors, and sticks a candle in every single one. He lights them all and sings Happy Birthday to his husband in the lowlight of their kitchen, his arms wrapped around Mickey’s waist and his voice soft. Mickey’s cheeks turn pink, and Ian pretends not to notice. He makes him blow out the candles anyways.

“You have to try them all,” Ian tells him. “Have to?” “Legally required.” “I don’t remember signing a contract.” “It’s written in between the lines of our marriage license.”

Mickey snorts and picks up the first cupcake—basic, safe, plain old vanilla with vanilla frosting—and takes a huge ass bite before handing it to Ian. He gets frosting on his nose.' - i need you (like cake on my birthday) by @sam-loves-seb

my gift for the lovely @sam-loves-seb 💙✨ prompt - art based on a fic for @gallavichthings gallavich gift exchange

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[thatonegeekygirl]

Murder On the Puppet History Set

or

Ryan Tries to Solve a Confounding Crime While Estranged Producer Shane Madej and The Prof Hang Out and Are Entirely Unhelpful

[hetalimagines]

General headcanons for Alfred as a boyfriend (SFW)

Here's my first actual post on this blog, hehe... I can't find the ask but someone requested some Alfred headcanons, so here are my rambles about what I think he's like as a boyfriend!

He’s honestly not the most traditionally romantic person. Your relationship is more like friends who make out sometimes. But he does have his own little ways of showing you he loves you!

He’ll put together playlists of songs that remind him of you. They’re mostly loose connections, like maybe a song mentions your eye color, or the lyrics remind him of a date you went on together, or it just sounds romantic and makes him wanna kiss you. He likes to sit with you while you listen (to every single song), and he interrupts the songs a bit to explain why he chose them.

“This one had me thinking what if we were dancing in a ballroom together, and out of nowhere, bam! Zombies bust in. The door crashes to the ground! Our dance turns into one of those cool fighting scenes with the—oh, this part reminded me of the time I woke up early and you were about to fall off the bed. You had a cute bedhead.”

(You have no idea what the lyrics are at this point.)

Dates with him are pretty casual, more like “hanging out” than anything fancy. Maybe you stay at home and watch movies/play games, or you go out for dinner at a local diner, or you go do awful karaoke together, or you go and prank a friend together.

He’s happy as long as he’s with you. Bonus if there’s food and/or drink.

He occasionally takes you out to a more traditional restaurant and dresses for the occasion. They’re usually expensive, too. The food isn’t his preference (too complicated for his palate), but if it makes you happy, he’s all for dealing with it for just one night.

His primary love languages are acts of service and quality time. He’s always doing what he can to help you out (and feel proud of himself in the process). Whether he helps you run errands, runs a bath for you ahead of time, or fluffs your pillow before you get in bed, it’s all because he wants to make your life easier!

He gets a little jealous if you ever spend time with your shared friends without him, or if you spend more time with others than him.

He’s so excited if you take interest in any of his hobbies. Movies? He’ll ask if you want to co-write a script with him. (He’s very relaxed about what exactly ends up in the script.) Archaeology? He has so many random facts to dump on you, and he’ll be super impressed by any knowledge you have on it. Conspiracy theories? Time to watch a bunch of documentaries! He enjoys them despite their flaws, but lets you know exactly when something is false and what actually happened.

He tries to take interest in your hobbies, too, even if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. It could be the most boring thing and he’d still listen and ask you questions about it. If it makes you happy, he wants to know all about it.

Pet names from him consist of things like babe, dude (💀), honey, occasionally sweetie, (jokingly… mostly) prince or princess. It’s all over the place. He’ll call you honey and dude back-to-back sometimes.

He loves debating if you’re comfortable with it! But be warned, he gets very heated about certain topics. His sense of justice is important to him. Otherwise, he’s usually not serious about these debates and doesn’t care who wins.

He tries to keep things light and doesn’t usually let people see his more serious side. He’ll open up to you more over time, however. It’s really him letting a wall down and allowing himself to get closer to you.

Every now and then, he has days where he’s a lot quieter and calmer than usual. He just wants to relax, stay on the couch with you and watch movies or simply chat. Maybe a movie chattering in the background as he tells you about his childhood. He doesn’t try so hard to keep up this energetic, heroic persona.

He’s right back to normal the next day like nothing happened.

Likes to annoy you for fun. Not in a mean-spirited way. He just thinks your responses are cute and has poor impulse control. Poking your cheeks or ruffling your hair or playing an obnoxious song loudly on the stereo while he dances. But he’ll back off if you’re genuinely upset with him. He means no harm.

He loves if you’re willing to play along with whatever he gets up to. Maybe he’s decided he’s going to try and vacuum the whole house while doing a handstand on the vacuum. You can hold onto his legs to help him stay balanced.

This man is very impulsive and has a tendency to get himself hurt. Random bruises all over his body or a cut along his forearm. He bounces back easily, and doesn’t want to fuss over it, but he lowkey likes if you baby him about it. He’ll always say how it’s not a big deal and he can take it, but his heart does this little flutter when you show concern, and even more if you force him to take better care of himself.

He burns himself in the kitchen and you force him to run it under cold water. He’s swooning inside.

He likes to gossip about others, especially over breakfast. He can’t help it; he’s just nosy, and he always has an idea of what’s going on and how he can help out. Huge bonus if you gossip with him!

He loves to feed you, but the majority of the food he brings for you is burgers or tubs of ice cream. He likes to experiment with the burgers’ toppings and seasonings, but they’re all burgers nonetheless.

Every now and then, he does plan some big romantic endeavor. It’s like a surprise. You never know when it’s coming… You wake up one morning and find out he’s booked a week long cruise, your bedroom is filled with balloons, and there’s enough breakfast food on the table to feed an army.

He does this thing sometimes (often) where he swoops in and has to save you. A puddle on the ground? No need to fear! He picks you up and swiftly carries you over it. The safest place for you is in his arms. He’ll even lay down and let you use him as a bridge if you want.

A suspicious penny on the sidewalk? LOOK OUT, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB! Let HIM step on it before you get blown up!

He steps on it. Nothing happens. Better safe than sorry!

If you’re the more independent type, that won’t stop him from trying. He just wants to keep you safe and have you appreciate his efforts. Being disinterested or resistant will just make him try harder.

Says cheesy stuff like “happy wife, happy life” unironically. He’s also the type to use terrible pickup lines to flirt with you. Totally unaware of how bad they are until you start laughing.

He also doesn’t care that they’re bad. He’s just having fun.

Loves to give you his clothes to wear. Seriously. You want one of his hoodies? Try six of them.

You complain when one stops smelling like him so he puts it on, works out, then gives it back to you like :D! Fixed the problem!

He takes so many pictures of you guys. Videos, too. His phone storage is eaten up by it. His favorite thing is to take selfies together. Usually with some silly filter. Or an even sillier caption.

“me and the babe out shopping” and it’s a picture of you, holding a piece of fruit with the dog ears filter

He’s not the most physically affectionate, but he always gives you morning kisses and especially kisses before leaving the house. He also loves carrying you around (mostly bridal style) in his arms for no reason other than he can. A hand on your back, another on your thighs, your head pressed against his chest. He loves it.

He loves knowing you find him physically attractive! He worries sometimes about being too overweight, so any reassurance that you like his body helps. If you think he’s hot, and you’re hot yourself, that must mean he definitely is.

Has a tendency to call you hot, but he’ll call you other things if it makes you uncomfortable.

Occasionally brags about you and how lucky he is. Not as often as you might think. Though he gets oddly competitive if anyone acts like their partner is better than you and starts spouting whatever he can so everyone knows you’re the absolute best. No competition.